


Familiarity

by ImTheGirlofManyFandoms



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, I'm Sorry, Immortality, Los Angeles Kings, M/M, National Hockey League, One is immortal while the other is not, Pining, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImTheGirlofManyFandoms/pseuds/ImTheGirlofManyFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike ran away one summer. It's not the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiarity

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to personally thank my friends Jelena, Ruthie, and Allison for helping me through my writer's block. I literally could not have done this without you guys. Thank you so much for everything. I love you all <3
> 
> Also, if you want to make fanart or a podfic, feel free to do so, but tag the fic. If you're going to podfic this work, please get in touch with me first at my tumblr, www.mikerichardsofficial.tumblr.com

Michael hadn't chosen this. He never would have, given the choice. 

February 11th, 1868, Michael Richards was born into a settler family in what would now be Kenora, Ontario, but at that time was just a couple of farmhouses. Not even yet a town. Not even a name for it, on the map. He grew up a happy child with loving parents and many siblings. 2 elder brothers, an elder sister, and a younger sister and brother, and they lived near a lake that froze over, every winter. They would go skating, after school and he and his brothers would play hockey while their sisters, father, and mother watched from afar. He hated when school came, for he would have preferred to stay outside, playing on the ice rather than sitting inside a barely-warm schoolhouse, learning arithmetic and spelling. Yet, he was happy living the simple life he was born to.

But that changed, soon enough.

As the years passed, Michael found himself looking no different than when he had turned 21, while his sisters and brothers continued to grow and age, as did his parents. He thought he was imagining things when he saw his younger brother get his first silver hairs, streaking through his dark curls, while he, who was 5 years his senior, had none at all, within his. As the years passed, he gazed into the mirror each morning and night, in hopes of seeing change, but to no avail. As he neared his 40th birthday, he realized that, though his family changed, he remained the same. So, the night before the fated day, he ran away, afraid of what he was.

He ran to Toronto, first, taking the train from London to the city, after hitching a ride from a couple of tin peddlers, in hopes that it would be too big for him to be found. He stayed there, in a boarding house, working his way in a printing job. He still played hockey. There was a local team he played on. He kept his name, knowing that the city was so big that, even if his family came looking, he wouldn't be found. The year was 1908. Mike was 40, but everyone thought he was 23 with his scruff. When shaved, he often got mistaken for a boy of 18 or 20 years of age, but with scruff or a beard, people saw him as 25, at most. 

When he was 49, Mike jumped at the opportunity to play for a new team in Toronto. A team called the Toronto Maple Leafs of the National Hockey League. The league itself was new and Michael hadn’t really seen much like it. There were teams in Montreal, Boston, and New York, as well as Toronto, and there were rumors of the league growing out to Chicago and Detroit, which Mike didn’t know if he believed or not. They sounded too far away, but he didn’t care. It was hockey.

And so, he played. And he stayed. 

-

Decades passed and Michael had seen everything. He’d won the cup with Gretzky, he’d seen Gordie Howe get his first and self-named Gordie Howe hat trick after fighting one of his teammates, he’d played with Maurice Richard. Everything that a hockey fan would sell their soul to go back and see or do. 

He let time pass between every time he went in and out of the league. He left for a long enough time to make people forget about him then go back in under a new name as a rookie. He played on several teams and hadn’t once found someone who recognized them. He thought himself lucky for that.

And then, things changed overnight. 

He fell in love for the first time when he was 135. He’d met Jeff Carter before, but when they were drafted, all he could think about was that he’d be playing with him. They’d played against each other and with each other, already, so it wouldn’t be anything new, but this felt… different.

They were together in Lehigh Valley for the same time, through their first year and the lockout. It was fun and they hung out a lot, both during and after that. They always roomed together on road trips and sat next to each other on the bus. They began to know each other’s little quirks and habits. Jeff knew Mike took two sugars in his coffee, Mike knew Jeff always put on his left skate before his right. Jeff knew Mike hated bell peppers on pizza and Mike knew Jeff didn’t like the purple Gatorade. People started thinking of them as practically dating which left a funny feeling in Mike’s chest every time someone brought it up. He shrugged it off, though, as though it were nothing.

When they won the Calder Cup, it was then that Mike realized he was in love. He hadn’t thought much about it, before, but now it seemed apparent. The funny feeling in his chest, the sweaty palms, the heated face, the heartbeat. It made sense. He said nothing, though. He figured he was a freak enough, already, being gay or bi or whatever he was didn’t seem to help much, even if people were getting better about it, and he didn’t want to scare Jeff off. But seeing him smile, his wet hair dripping with the champagne and beer that had been sprayed everywhere, blue eyes bright and joyful, and a smile whose brightness rivaled the sun’s. It made Mike’s heart thump and ache in his chest

That night, the ache in his chest grew a bit more when he realized that, even if Jeff loved him back, he would out-live him. He couldn’t love him because he would continue to live while Jeff would age and wither away and eventually, he wouldn’t be there anymore.

-

They cracked the Flyers roster, for the season through working their asses off in training camp. Mike and Jeff ended up playing on the same lines. They were kind of a package deal, when they thought about it long enough. Always together, always skating and laughing and joking. He felt like he’s known him his whole life. 

When they lost the Cup in 2010, Jeff was the first (and only) person over to help lift Mike’s spirits. They sat on the couch together and watched Rocky and The Godfather and ate pizza and drank crappy American beer to the point where they ended up falling asleep together. Mike’s heart felt like it was about to pop out of his chest, but he was too tired to move and too heartbroken to want to change it.

Then, next summer came… and so did the trade.

Los Angeles was nice. It was big, warm, and pretty entertaining, if you knew where to look. His teammates were nice guys, even if it took him a while to warm-up to them. He just felt alone in L.A. It didn’t feel like home did. He wasn’t even talking about Philly and he knew it. He was talking about Jeff. So, he sulked and kept tabs on him and his injury and played hockey, occasionally joining the guys for a drink or two, after a win, but other than that, nothing much else besides a daily routine and hanging out with Arnold, his big black labrador dog.

And then Mike gets a text from Jeff, one morning with the words “Mind picking me up on the 19th?” and there’s a picture attached to it.  
It’s a picture of a plane ticket to LA…

Mike called him immediately.

-

Picking Jeff up from LAX was like he was welcoming home a piece of himself. He was nervous and excited and he felt really really happy. He loves him. Would he ever say that out loud? Over his (figuratively) dead body. But, when he saw Jeff out by the luggage claim, he felt his heartbeat pick up and felt his palms get clammy and he felt the urge to scream it from the top of his lungs. Jeff hadn’t changed much, since the last time they’d seen each other, but this felt different. A different context, maybe. His golden hair hidden under a Blue Jays baseball cap, his tall, strong build in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, his bright blue eyes searching anxiously for a familiar face and then he saw him and Mike felt like his heart was about to burst. 

“Hey, you!” Jeff grinned as he walked over to Mike, ditching his suitcases a few feet away and bringing Mike in for a hug. 

Mike froze and sank into the hug, wrapping his arms around his blonde friend. “It’s good to see you too, bud.”

Mike drove him home and they ended up living together for the rest of the season

And then they won the Cup.

It was loud, to say the least, everyone was screaming and hugging and crying, the crowd was screaming and cheering at the top of their lungs. Mike’s heart felt like it was about to burst from how swollen it felt and how hard it pounded in his chest. He’d never been on a team like this before. He’d won the cup half a dozen the times before, but this…  
This felt like the first time he’d actually done something for it.

And then he’s getting pulled into a tight hug by a pair of strong arms. 

“Mikey! Richie- Oh my God! We did it! We won! Holy shit!” he heard Jeff exclaim in his ear. Mike felt like he was made of fire.

They’d lost it two years ago. He hadn’t forgotten. You can’t forget that. But this almost made it feel like the wait was worth it. Like it made the pain go away.

He hugged Jeff back just as tightly. “Yeah, bud! We did it! We fucking did it! Holy shit, we fucking won the Stanley fucking Cup!”

When Mike had the cup handed to him, he skated around, looking at the crowd, at the cameras, and then, back at his team and Jeff… 

Jeff looked like he was about to cry. His ocean-blue eyes were bright with pride and wet with tears as he watched him skate around, lifting the silver-colored trophy above his head.

When Mike skated over to him and handed the cup off to him, he felt a surge of pride run through him. He felt so happy, so proud of what they’d done. No heartbreak, no tears of sadness.They had made it. Mike felt his heart swell as he watched the man he was in love with skate around, lifting the cup over his head, grinning that big toothless grin that made Mike’s heart jump.

He left Staples Center with the guys around 11 to head to the main after-party. He and Jeff didn’t get home until around 3:30 in the morning. Jeff was bitch-ass drunk, to put it simply. Mike had to help keep him upright as he was slurring words in Mike’s ear as he dragged him inside of their shared house.

“Best night eVER!” Jeff slurred, tilting his head back to let out a whoop as Mike closed the door and locked it. Mike didn’t drink a lot, so he was practically sober, listening to his best friend ramble. 

“I know. It was mine too,” he smiled. “Now, come on, time to get you up to bed. You need sleep, Mr. Champion.”

“But Mikeyyyyyy,” the taller man pouted, “you’re a champion, toooooo!”

“I know.” the brunet smiled. “I know I am.”

Jeff gave a drunken smile, “we’re champions together, Mikey. Like how we’re s’posed to be.”

“Yeah, bud,” Mike said, still smiling. “We’re champions together.” Mike tightened his grip on the arm Jeff had slung over his shoulders and hoisted him up a little more and walking over to the base of the stairs and heading up a few steps. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

He helped his drunken friend upstairs and to his room before helping him out of his clothes and into bed. “There.” Mike said, adjusting the pillows behind his head. “You good?”

“Yeah.” the blond man said, grinning up at him. “Hey, Mikey… Miiiikeyyyyy.”

“What?” he asked.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, sounding like a child, which warmed Mike’s heart in an odd way.

Mike looked at him softly. “Of course. What is it?”

“I… I love you.”

Mike felt his heart stop momentarily in his chest before starting back up at triple the speed. 

Jeff just said he loved him.

But, then again, Jeff was drunk. Jeff had a girlfriend. He had Megan. Megan who he loved. Megan who he can grow old with. Megan who he won’t get dirty looks at for being with.

Jeff doesn’t love him. Jeff can't love him.

Mike just smiled and shook his head before moving over to the door. “Okay, Mr.LiquorMan, get some sleep.” he sighed before heading just outside the door. “Goodnight, Jeff.”

Mike went back into his room and got undressed and got into his bed before pulling the covers on and over himself, but he couldn’t find sleep. He just couldn’t shake the feeling. What if Jeff was telling the truth? What if he wasn’t supposed to hear that? Or know that? What if Jeff was in love with him? 

Mike decided he would try not to think about it too much. ‘Jeff is drunk.’ he thought, pulling the covers over his head. 

“Jeff is your best friend.” he mumbled to himself.

“Jeff has a girlfriend. Jeff is straight.” he said, closing his eyes.

“Jeff doesn’t love you.”

-

The next few years go okay. They win the cup again and beating the Blackhawks for the spot in the final felt like a ‘fuck you’ to them for 2010 and for the year before. And everything was going great...until the new season.

They had just beat the Wild and things were going pretty good… until he gets a text from Jeff, the morning after. He calls him immediately after.

“Slava’s in jail.” Jeff says as soon as he picks up.

“I saw that. What the fuck is he there for? What’s going on?” 

Jeff sighs. “Apparently there’s just some things we didn’t know.”

Mike’s a little scared now. “Jeff, what do you mean?”

“He hit Anya.”

Mike felt like all the air in his lungs got punched out of him “What?!”

“He beats her. Apparently. He’s done it for a long time, according to released statements from his wife… well, his ex, now.” He sighed again. “God, I feel awful. We should have known. We should have been able to tell. We’ve known him for years. How did we not kno-”

“Jeff, calm down.” Mike reasoned. He was pissed. Jeff was pissed, too. Jeff had a wife, now. He loved Megan with his whole heart. The thought of anyone hurting the person they were supposed to love and take care of was a mystery. They had a daughter, too, which made Mike’s heart clench in a way that made him feel like he was about to throw up. How could anyone hurt anyone? “Jeff, you can’t always know these things.”

“But we’ve known-”

“Jeff, please, listen to me.” Mike takes a deep breath. “We can’t always know these things. It’s impossible to. People like that often act different in public. It’s like a game to them.They think that, if they can hide it from people, it’s okay. Outside, everything looks okay, but inside, behind closed doors… Jeff we can’t always tell what happens when we aren’t there. I’m fucking pissed. I know you are, too. But we can’t do anything about it. What happens is based on what Dean does. Not you, not me, not Quickie, not Drew, not Kopi, not even Brownie or coach. Dean.”

Jeff stays silent before speaking up. “Mike… what if this doesn’t get fixed?”

“Dean will fix it. He’s a smart man. Hopefully, he knows what he’s doing.” Mike sighs.

“I hope you’re right.” Jeff breathes.

“I hope I am, too.” Mike says quietly.

-

The rest of the season is kind of a trainwreck. Tyler gets mononucleosis, Alec gets a terrible concussion, Tanner breaks his leg in a game against the Rangers, and not much seems to be going right. The All-Star Break comes as a relief to the team as Drew and Anze go off to Columbus to play with every other un-injured big name in the league.

Mike heads home to Kenora for the break. He just needs a rest after everything, recently. At the age of 147, he was doing well. He hadn’t slowed down at all, actually. But lately, he had been acting like he had. People here believed him to be almost 30. He couldn’t keep going after that. So, during the break, he called Dean to come and talk. It was time. 

Dean was one of the 4 people who knew about his condition. His agent, Cabbie, and Holmgren were the others. Holmgren knew because he was his old GM. He had to know in case he ended up staying there, which he didn’t. Cabbie knew because he once walked in on Mike applying lines to his face around his eyes, a few years ago, making him look older. He had to fess up and tell Cabbie everything, then he had to prove it and got out old pictures. Cabbie nearly fainted, but he promised to keep the secret, no matter how ludicrous it was.

“So, Michael,” Dean said calmly, “what is it you wish to talk about?

Mike sighed. “Sir… Mr. Lombardi, I think it’s time for me to go.”

Dean’s face softened. “Michael…”

“People here think I’m 30. Sir, I can’t go past that. People will know. I can’t risk being outed. I’ve been slowing down my play-”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah. To make myself less important to the team’s production. Make it seem like I’m not worth it.”

“Mhm…” Dean mumbled, nodding his head. “Go on. I’m listening, Richie.”

“It’s just something I need to do, Dean. I need something to really make people think I’m just not worth it anymore. So they’ll stop caring.”

“Mike,” Dean sighed, “there’s always going to be people who care I see at least 15 Richards jerseys at every home game. So, people will always care. For instance, I do. Another instance, the team does. And you know that. But I want to help, you, Mike. What is it you want me to do?” 

Mike sighed. “ Put me on waivers.”

Dean looked startled. “What?! Mike, do you know what you’re asking me to-”

“I know.” Mike said. “I know what I said. Put me on waivers. I’m not getting picked up. No one’s going to want me.”

“But how do you-”

“From the way I’ve been performing lately, sir, I know no one will want me.”

Dean looked hesitant to the idea, but then sighed. “Alright.” he mumbled. “I’ll do it. What do I do after the day is over?”

“Send me down.”

“What?”

“Send me down.” he said again. “I’m already on the 4th line. There isn’t much else for me. Send me to Manchester. Or Ontario. Make it really seem like I’m not worth it.”

“Michael…”

“Sir, you have to trust me on this.” Mike said, almost begging. “Please.”

“And what if we need you?” he asked. “What if we’re doing poorly and we need you back”

“Then call me up.” Mike stated. “But sir, remember this. When the offseason comes… I have to go.”

“Are you positive?”

Mike gave a solemn nod. “Yes sir, I’m sure.”

“Not even one more year?”

Mike shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

Dean sighed once more, “I understand… Michael?”

“Yes?”

“Is… is there another reason you want to go?”

Mike froze in his seat. What the fuck do you tell your GM when you have a crush on your married best friend and have had one for ten years? You certainly don’t tell them that!  
And yet, feeling like this was the moment he had to come clean, Mike did.

Dean wasn’t surprised. He’d always suspected that there was something there that he didn’t quite understand or know about. He looked at the curly-haired man with nothing but sympathy. He understood what it was like to love someone and not be loved in return. So, he could do nothing more.

“I wish you all the best, Mike.” Dean said before he left. “I’ll make the announcement tomorrow, when I’m in Los Angeles again.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mike nodded before saying goodbye and shutting the door behind him as he left.

-

He gets the notification the next morning that the decision had been finalized and that he was on waivers. He receives several texts of sympathy throughout the day from old and current teammates, ones from Team Canada, too, and from Cabbie, but the first call is from Jeff. Mike doesn’t pick up the first time. He’s afraid of what he could say. The next call is immediately after. He doesn’t pick that one up, either. Finally, he answers on the third consecutive call, shaking and scared as to what’s going to happen.

“Jeff?” he answers a bit choked up, making it sound like he’s been crying.

“No.” he hears Jeff state on the other line. “No. No. Fuck no! This is bullshit!”

“Jeff, please-” Mike tries to reason before getting cut off.

“No, Richie- Mike this- fuck!”

“Jeff!” Mike almost shouts, calming Jeff down a bit. “Jeff, calm down.”

“Mike, this is- what the fuck- this is bullshit!” Jeff exclaims on the other line. “They can’t do this! What the fuck!? No!”

“Jeff,” Mike sighs, “Jeff, I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I should be doing better than thi-”

“No, Mikey- fuck- just…” he hears Jeff groan on the other line, “This isn’t fair! You’re one of the hardest working guys on the team, no matter what line you’re on or how many points you put up! God, fuck Dean!”

“Jeff, please.” Mike said softly. “Jeff, this isn’t personal. I haven’t exactly been great, as of late. Not even good. Jeff, don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself and the team. I’m not supposed to worry you, bud. Best friends don’t get each other worked up.”

“No, Mike, I’m not doing that. That’s bullshit.” Jeff says. “This isn’t fair!”

“Jeff, please listen to me!” Mike exclaims. “Jeff, I’m on waivers, okay? I’m fucking pissed, but I can’t do anything about it, now. I should be doing better. Maybe this will help me.”

“Why are you so calm about this?!”

“I’m calm because it’s out of my control!” Mike says. “It hurts like a bitch, bud. Like a fucking Weber slapshot does. The damage has been done. I have no control over what happens, anymore. If I don’t get picked up, I’m going to Manch. Dean came up here, yesterday, and talked to me about it personally so I was okay with it. Nick Shore’s going to be taking my place. he’s a good kid. He’ll fit in well with you guys.” He didn’t know if that was bullshit or not. He just couldn’t take the lead-weighted feeling his heart had in his chest. Jeff sounded like he’d been crying. He wondered if he had been. “You’ll be fine without me.”

“No, Mike we won’t.” Jeff says. “You’re as much of a part of this team as me or Kopi or Quickie or Drew. You’re just as important. It won’t be the same at all, bud.”

“Jeff, please, I know you’re upset, I am, too, but let’s set the record straight. I’m just not performing. I’m on waivers, as of today, and if no one picks me up in 24 hours, I’m going to Manchester to play with the Monarchs. Maybe I could help. Thank you for your concern for me. You really are a pal, bud.”

“Mike-” 

“Jeff… I mean that, bud.” Mike says. “Thank you. For everything. Goodbye, bud. I’ll see you soon, I hope.” and with that, he hung up.

“Don’t cry.” he told himself as he felt tears well in his eyes and his throat choke up. 

“Don’t cry.” he told himself as he sniffled, refusing to let the tears come.

“Don’t. Cry.” he told himself as he felt the first few fall, staining his cheeks, curled up with his knees to his chest.

“Don’t-,” he tried to say, but it was cut off by a loud sob that escaped him when he finally let go and broke down, like his heart had done only a moment before.

-

Manchester sucked. It’s not that Mike didn’t like the atmosphere or the people or anything. He just didn’t like how he felt while he was there.

His new house was one that looked like the one he had in LA, only it was less like home and more like a place he lived in. It was already furnished, which was nice, but it felt empty.

Arnold didn’t like it much, either. It was too cold for them to go on walks and he had no one to play with. No one else on the Monarchs had a dog.

Mike came to Manchester to make people forget, yet, when he took the ice, he felt a surge of need run through his veins. The pang of want heavy with the heartbeats in his chest. He felt he had to get back, the thought of that colliding and contradicting with what he originally planned in his head and with Dean.

He ended up getting 14 points in 16 games, most of them his own goals. In this time, he kept up with the Kings more than he did his own social life. He kept tabs on their 8-game win streak and their injuries and Tyler’s mononucleosis and Tanner’s broken leg.

Toff got better and Alec and Tanner were skating again and things were looking up… until they playoffs began nearing and the Pacific, being the hell-scape division it is, kept shoving them out and back in again. Like a fatal wave pulling out and in from the shore, never giving any hint as to when or if it will hurt you or be kind.

Mike gets called back to LA to get scoped and checked out after about 6 weeks while the team is on a road trip which hasn’t gone amazingly, but could be worse. Mike got calls from the team when they found out he was there and they were all happy. He saw them home from the airport, almost getting knocked over with hugs from everyone, even Kopi, who had to rush because Ines had apparently gone into labor, but no one was happier to see him than Jeff, it seems. He was all smiles and stayed next to him the whole time. Mike gave Jeff a ride home and Jeff talked his ears off the whole way. Mike didn’t care, though. It meant he cared.

Dean called him after a pitiful loss to the Canucks which included a hit that left Tyler teetering on the possibility of suspension for a game or two.

“We need you back.” he said. “Seriously, this is awful and your numbers are good and we need you back.”

Mike sighed. “It was one loss.”

“Still, we have a road trip. We need back up.”

Mike sighed once more. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The line was silent for a while until mike heaved a sigh to break the tension.

“Alright,” he gave. “Alright, I’ll go. but cut me when we get back home. Make me only play hard opponents or on the road.”

“Deal.” Dean sighed after thinking for a minute. “Just help give them a little hope.”

“I will.” he said. “Bye.”

“I’ll make the announcement in the morning.” he said. “Goodnight Michael.”

-

The Kings don’t make the playoffs. 

Jonny blames himself.

“Two points.” he muttered to himself. “Two points.”

Mike wants to go over and comfort his friend, but at the same time, he wants to do that for everyone. He feels awful. Like he should have snapped out of it and stopped being selfish and gone back to himself and helped more. Done more. Been the player he knows he can be .

He looked around at his teammates. He didn’t think he’d ever seen them so… so… unresponsive. It broke his heart in a million different ways. No one said a word. The only sounds in the Dome’s locker room were the sounds of their clothing and gear rustling together. He looked around at Tyler and… he looked like he was about to cry. So did Nick… And Kopi and Dustin and everyone else in the room. Brayden had silent tears streaming down his cheeks and, when Richie looked closely, Jordan did, too. Long glistening streaks running down their faces, which only added to the guilt he felt.

The plane ride home that night was silent. Hushed, quiet whispers were the only talking Mike could hear as he sat alone near the back of the plane, looking out the window at the night sky and the lack of lights down below as they flew over Idaho.

“Hey.” he hears a voice say. Mike looks over to see Jeff standing there with bags under his puffy eyes and his shirt all rumpled up. The sight of him made Mike’s heart clench. “Mind if I join you? Muzz snores and you looked lonely.”

Mike hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, sure bud. Thanks.” he said as Jeff took the empty seat next to him.

“I’m sorry.” Mike said after a few minutes of silence between them. “I’m really sorry, bud. I should have done more. I should have been the-”

“Mike.” Jeff sighed, “Stop. Calm down. This wasn’t… it wasn’t your fault. We just… It wasn’t our year, I guess. We’ve been through that a lot, haven’t we?”

Mike relaxed a bit in his seat. “Yeah, we have, but still I-”

“But nothing.” Jeff says. “Not everything is a constant when it comes to hockey, bud. Believe me when I say, I kinda wish it was. We’d be making the playoffs and lifting the cup every year, if it was. But, it’s not that simple, y’know? You gave it your best. I know you did”

“No, I didn’t.” Mike wants to say. “If only I had.”

“Yeah.” Mike nodded. “Yeah, I know.” He looked down at his hands in his lap and leaned his head back against the seat’s headrest. He was exhausted, but sleep couldn’t find him.

“I’m sorry if I keep you up.” he sighs. “Can’t sleep.”

Jeff looked at him. “Here.” the blond man said before carefully taking Mikes head and lowering it down to where it was resting on his shoulder.

Mike was internally screaming, at this point.

“Better?”

“Um….” Mike said, fidgeting in his seat, praying to God Jeff couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, this is okay. thanks.”

“No problem.” he heard Jeff say. “Get some sleep, bud. I’ll wake you up before we land.”

Mike nodded and let out a sigh before closing his eyes.

He fell asleep almost instantly.

-

The last game was an effort for nothing. A 4-1 win at home against San Jose in the Stadium Series jerseys. Mike asked not to play. He was afraid he was going to cry, honestly, but also because he was looking around for somewhere to hide. To play when he decided to go again. The most promising place, right then, was in Berlin or maybe Munich. He sat up with Jordan Weal and Tanner, in the press box, dressed sharply, watching his team systematically destroy their rivals for the final time for that year for a meaningless 2 points. 

The ovation at the end was insane and tearful. A thank you to Robyn, who was retiring from the sport a champion, and a goodbye to Justin and Jarret, free agents who would probably be leaving them in the offseason. Who had been a staple to the team for so long. Mike was leaving, too, but no one brought that up out of the chance he may stay. But that chance, no matter how big everyone thought it was, didn’t exist to those who knew. He'd made his choice.

He visited the locker room, after, telling everyone they did a good job. Tyler, Martin, and Jake weren’t staying for long. They were heading off to Prague in a few weeks to play for Canada at the World Championships. Trevor was going for America, Anze for Slovenia, and Marian for Slovakia.

He slipped away when everyone started talking about the yearly trip to Vegas. He wasn’t going. He had to pack and talk with Dean. He was going to say he had found a place and that he needed to make the announcement soon with the plan they made. It was time.

A couple hours later, he was up in the empty office- areas of TSC after clearing out his stuff, talking with his agent.

“Max, listen to what Dean and I tell you, okay?”

“Richie, bud, but no one’s gonna fall for it.” his agent sighed on the other line. “Even if I didn’t know you, I know that doesn’t sound like you.”

“It’s the best we can do.” he said. “it’s so common, nowadays that no one’s gonna be surprised. They all think I’m washed up. Bad concussion story in, add painkillers and no training, Dean’s gonna “Cut Me” from the team and I’m going to Munich. Add in the fake border story and people will really think I’ve got to go. Max, this is the safest thing for me. It’s what we agreed on. He and I are doing this to protect me. If people found out about me, I’d be shipped off to some government testing lab faster than you could believe. I’d be a freak, bud.”

“Yeah, but it’s not you.” He said, emphasizing. “Mikey, listen, the team’s still gonna “hold your contract” and act like you’re taking money. What if someone offers to take you or shows interest? What to do the-”

“Dean and I talked that out. If someone asks for me or shows interest, he’ll either turn them down himself or have them talk to you. You can turn them down. He and I have been talking about this since the All-Star break. It just isn’t safe for me anymore. I can’t do it anymore, no matter how hard I want to and God do I want to and you know that.”

“I know you do.”

“Then trust me.” Mike begged. “Please.”

There was a moment of silence before he heard Max sigh.

“Alright.” he said, sounding, if anything, defeated. “Alright, I’m agreeing to it, but only because you’ll get out of here without question and only if you promise me you have a plan and a place for when you leave. I care about you, bud.”

“I have a plan.” he confirmed. “The place thing needs to be sorted out more, but I’m trying to get it finalized. Berlin looks best. They always need new guys, too.”  
“Are you positive?”

“Ye-” Mike said, before freezing in the middle of his words. Something was there. “I have to go.” he rushed before pressing the stop button and looking around until he saw a head of dark, curly hair slip back behind the corner of one of the cubicles. 

“Who’s there?” he asked. “Come on, show yourself. Who’s there?!” Nothing but silence cut through the room until he heard a sigh and saw the figure make it’s way around the corner.

“Justin?” Mike asked, semi-startled. “W-what are you doing up here?”

“I- uh- I- I came to talk with Dean about my contract.”

Mike felt like he was about to be sick. “I… how long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” He said, crossing his arms. “Mike, what’s going on?”

Mike felt frozen. “I….”

“Mike?”

“Bud, you should get to Dean.”

“Mike, I’m not leaving.”

“Justin, it’s tough to explain.”

“Explain what!?” he shouted. “That you’re running away to Berlin? What’s this about some fake scandal? Pills? borders? What the fuck is going on!?”

“I can’t tell you!”

“Well I’m not leaving until you do!”

“Bud ple-”

“I’m serious, Michael!” he shouted again. “Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“No!” Mike exclaimed. “I can’t!”

“Fuck you, then!”

Mike felt like he’d just been slapped. “What the fu- The fuck did I do!?”

“I just want to help!”

“Then step off!” Mike shouted, then giving a sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I… It’s hard to explain. It would be better if you just go.”

“Mike, I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on!”

“You’d think I was insane!”

“Try me!” Justin shouts. “Bud, I just want to help you. You’re my friend and teammate. Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Bud, I’ve played for the Hurricanes and won the Stanley Cup with the team that made the playoffs using the second to last spot. Hell, I’ve seen people score goals with their asses and mumps make a fucking comeback." he grit through his teeth. "Try me. I’ve seen it all at this point.”

Mike sighed once more after a few moments of silence between the two men. “Alright… Justin, you’ve… have you heard of the story? The one about the player that lives forever?”

Justin gave him a look. “Yeah, of course I have. not since I was a little kid, though. The older kids used to tell us it. Said how he won the cup, like, a dozen times with different teams. Been around since Maurice Richard, that kind of stuff. It was just a story, though. Something they told us to let us dream. Keep us occupied so we would shut up while driving to a tournament or something.”

Mike couldn’t believe he was doing this. “Okay, well…”

“Mike?”

“Justin… that’s me… I’m the player. The one from the stories.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two men until Justin spoke up. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m… I’m the player… The one from the stories… I… I can’t die, bud.”

“Okay…” Justin said. “Um, sorry, if I seem out of it. I’m just… I’m kinda letting this sink in.”

“Wait,” Mike perked up, “wait, you believe me?”

“Well,” Justin sighed. “It would make sense as to why you’re leaving. And why the lines by your eyes are a little smudged… bud were you crying?”

Mike reached up and gently touch the line by his left eye and, sure enough, some of the make up easily came off and onto his index finger.

“I…”

“I didn’t notice until just now, don’t worry.”

Mike nodded. “Alright. Thanks. And yeah, I was.”

Justin looked sympathetic. “You feeling okay about this? Nervous at all. I mean, changing NHL teams is one thing, but Berlin?”

Mike bit down on his lip. “It’s safe for me if I go farther away. It used to be easier. Go in, play, go out, hide for about a few years, repeat.”

“Why can’t you do that now?”

“It’s harder now.” he shrugs. “Social media and everything. Everyone keeps tabs on everyone. It’s harder to disappear, you know?”

Justin nods in agreement. “Yeah, I guess it would be, huh?”

“Mhm.” he confirms. “The papers aren’t hard to alter. We can do that easily. Change my name, nationality, date of birth, birthplace. That stuff’s easy. It’s just getting out that’s hard. Making people forget is the hardest.”

“Forget?” Justin asked. “Forget what?”

“Me.”

“What!?”

“It’s easier, that way.” Mike sighed. “If you do something, or become less significant, people forget about you. To put it into some form of sense, I’m about 90% sure most people can’t name 10 players on the Arizona Coyotes besides Doan and Ekman-Larsson.”

“Because they’re not a major team.”

“Exactly.” Mike says. “I’ve been making my play less prominent on the team for a while now. It’s a way of making it easier for people to forget. Less prominence, the more likely you’ll be able to slip away.”

“What about those who remember?” Justin questioned. “You still have a lot of people who like you, Mikey.”

“That’s what the scandals are for.” he explained. “The scandals are so people will think that I have to leave. That I’m bad news. People will understand why Dean “cuts me” from the team after that. We’ve worked something out with a few friends that Dean has in NHLPA to make it seem like they’re looking into it. Make it look like there’s a case to be negotiated. But there isn’t. It’s just a cover up so I can get away.”

“So... that’s what all of that was just now, wasn’t it?”

Mike nodded. “I’m sticking around for just a little longer. The announcement’s going out in July. I’m heading home until then. Sticking here for a week more, though. I just need to get things packed. I’m probably selling the house down here. I’m… everything just needs to fall into place.”

“What about us?”

“What?”

“The team, Mikey.” Justin said, sounding a little annoyed. "Your team. My team. What about them?"

"It depends, I guess." he said. "I know you guys can't forget me, but I just want you guys to let go."

Justin shook his head. "I don't think that's possible, bud."

"Try." he pleaded. "Please. I don't want you guys to do anything but pretend it never happened."

"That what never happened!? The Cup!? The playoffs!?" He questioned. "Mikey we can't just do that!"

“Me. Not just that. Just forget me. Everything.” he replied. “It’s just… it’s for the better.”

“Mike-”

“Please.”

The room was silent for a bit more.

“What about Jeff?”

Mike froze where he stood. He couldn't speak.

"Mike, bud, what about Jeff?"

“What?” Mike croaked. "J-Jeff?"

“Jeff? Your best friend.” Justin needlessly clarified. “What about him?”

“I…” Mike said, trying not to choke up on his words. “I don’t know.”

“Mike?”

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and ran a hand through his curled hair. “I'm… Sorry. I just…”

Justin looked at him for a minute before his whole face changed to a look of disbelief. “Oh my God.”

“Justin?”

“I… Mike… Are you… You’re in love with him… Aren’t you?”

Mike couldn’t move. If felt to him as though someone just poured ice-cold water down his back. 

“Mike?” Justin piped. “Mike, come on, say something.”

Again, silence. He was too stunned to move.

“Mike?”

“Alright. Fine.” He sighed. “You wanna know? Fine. Yes, I’m in love with him. No, he doesn’t know and I don’t want him to.”

Justin looked a little stunned, but then his gaze softened. 

“Mike…”

“What?” he snapped. “What more could I tell you? I’ve loved him since 200- and- fucking-3 and I realized I did back when we won the fucking Calder in Lehigh Valley. He’s another reason I want to fucking leave. Because I’m scared that one of these days, I’m going to fucking snap and try to kiss him or something else equally as fucking stupid and then he’s never going to speak to me again. I’d rather have him not talk to me because I’m gone and because of this whole plan than because I know I fucked up. There. Are you happy?!”

Justin sighed. “Mike, stop talking, you’re working yourself up more. Trust me. Calm down.”

Mike took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes to see his friend’s face, brows furrowed with concern for his troubled teammate who stood before him.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Mike replied, nodding his head and giving a sniffle. “I just…-”

“I know.” Justin sympathized. “I know... God, Mike I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” he said. “It’s alright.”

“No, I’m sympathizing.” he replied. “Mike, bud, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“No one has any idea.” Mike said bitterly. “I wanted it that way, but since I’m leaving before the season begins, Why not tell anyone who even remotely finds out about this?”

“Mike…”

Mike sighed. “I’m really sorry, Justin, I’ve been an asshole. I just-”

“It’s fine.” Justin clarified. “Really, it’s fine. Don’t apologize. I have no idea how much you’re going through, right now. And I shoved you into it, a little. I’m so sorry, bud. I guess I just got a little out of hand. You don’t need this right now.”

“No, bud, It’s alright.” Mike countered. “It’s just been a long time since someone’s asked.”

“Do you… I can ask Kelly if we can set another place for you at dinner, if you want to come over. We can talk a bit more on the back porch over some beers. Just the boys, you know? Like we used to. Figured we’d give it one last go round before you ship out. ‘Specially if I end up not signing again here. Go somewhere else.”

Mike nodded. “That’s really nice of you bud, I… Thank you.”

Justin shrugged. “It’s no problem. Just doing what I can.”

“Still, thanks.” the shorter man responded. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

Justin nodded and checked his watch. “Yeah. I gotta go talk to Dean. I’ll see you later. I’ll text you about what time you should be over.”

“Thanks, bud.” Mike smiled. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright, bud. Goodbye.” Justin said before the two friends walked past each other to head their separate ways for the second to final time.

-

When the offseason’s end rolled around, Mike was gone. The story fooled everyone. Well, mostly everyone, at least, but those who didn’t believe it were too busy getting wrapped up in the rest of the offseason’s hell to figure out more.

The whole team talked to him about it. Sending their sympathies and asking him about it. Often times he replied that he was too scared to try to ask for help.Mostly, he replied with “I just was scared, you know?” or something of the like. They fell for it. The stigma against substance abuse, injury, and illness in the NHL helped add on to it. No one talked about it. Ever. The fact that his teammates were being as supportive as they were was a shock even to him.

Well, most of them, at least... Jeff didn’t call. At all. Ever since the report went out, Mike hadn’t heard a word from him. Did it hurt? Yes. Was it going to plan, though? Yes. So he tried not to care. It was hard not to.

Mike left for Germany on the last day before the preseason started. His old house in LA didn’t even look like his house, anymore. Its walls were empty, the rooms were, too, everything was gone except for what had already been there by the time he had moved in, four years ago. All of it packed up into boxes and being shipped out to Germany early so it would be there when he arrived or shortly after.

He was taking Arnold with him, of course. He wouldn’t dare leave him behind. He gave him a new collar with what would become his new number when he moved and his new address in Munich, the place he’d be living until he went to play for Berlin.

The drive felt foreign to him. It wasn’t Arnold’s whimpers to be let out as he rode behind him in the back seat in his huge kennel, or the sunlight outside that glinted off of the cars in the opposing lane as they drove by, or even the music playing through the stereo of the rented car. All of that felt familiar to him in one way or another. It was the feel of it all. The reason. It felt like a hole in the heart as he watched the city go by. Places he knew and went to, old spots that were familiar with him and the team. The team. He still referred to them as that as though he were still a part of them. They weren’t even his anymore. He didn’t belong there anymore. 

He had to drive by TSC on his way to the rental place to drop off the car and catch a shuttle bus to the airport. The sight of it and all the cars in front made his heart ache. He knew there was practice today for the first preseason game, tomorrow against the Coyotes in Bakersfield, which was some dustbowl little town in the middle of the southern half of the state with an Oilers affiliate for a team. They weren’t half bad.

The shuttle was cold and empty apart from him and the driver, unless you count Arnold. Quiet apart from the hiss of the bus and the sounds of the planes overhead and the cars and taxis in the other lane. It was almost comforting knowing that those sounds had become familiar after all these years.

LAX was crowded as fuck, but Mike didn’t expect anything else when it came to flights out of the city. They were always hell. The flight to New York had about an hour until departure, so he sat and waited, texting Justin he was about to go, just like he had promised he would. Same thing for Dean and Cabbie and Max, who he promised to keep tabs with while he was gone. It was a bitter goodbye, but a necessary one.

The flights from LA to New York and from New York to Munich were over 15 hours altogether not even counting the 2-hour layover in New York because of the wind. He was exhausted. He never slept well on flights. He just looked out the window practically the entire time, listening to podcasts and music and trying anything to take his mind off of everything.

The first few days in the city weren’t bad. He didn’t mind it much. It was quieter than LA and Philadelphia and it had an old feeling to it from the years and years of history that were embedded everywhere in the city, it seemed. The rain was a rarity back home, but here, it seemed to be a constant as well as the little shops and the calmness of the river. Arnold really liked being able to run around in the small backyard of his house and try to catch the raindrops in his mouth or chase after finches and other birds, like how he did back home in Kenora. It was the only familiar sight Mike had in an unfamiliar place.

He kept up with the Kings the entire time he was there. He watched their games at ungodly hours of the morning through some stream that Justin linked to him that was most likely illegal, but pretty decent, even without English commentary.

And then Cabbie linked him to an interview…

“Apparently your boy had a couple things to say.” is what Cabbie wrote underneath the link to the article.

Mike clicked the link which led him to the Kings website. It was an interview with Jeff, like he suspected from Cabbie’s words. So he read it. 

It seemed to be a normal interview for the most part… until a question about him was thrown into the mix.

Mike regretted reading it immediately.

Jeff… virtually ignored him. Jeff kind of brushed aside everything. Something in Mike’s chest felt like lead as he shut his laptop and put it back in its place on the bottom shelf of his bedside table.

He was right, a few years ago. 

Jeff didn’t love him.

Jeff hated him. 

-

It was a long time before Mike got the courage to go back into the league. He felt so scared. He’d been in the draft a dozen different times, but he was terrified. What if he choked? What if he didn’t get called? What if… 

What if Jeff saw him? 

All these things rushed through his head, like it was the first time all over again. He was taken by Colorado with the 21st overall pick. The name Richardson, a spin-off of his old name, in white letters above the number 39 on the burgundy and blue jersey. He shook the GM’s hand and went back behind the stage to the secret area to do media. 

His first game comes that October. He’d cleared training camp and had cracked the roster,even if he had to wait a couple games for his debut. But out of all the teams they had to face for his first, this was the worst.

Pulling up to Staples Center in the bus was like greeting an old friend in the worst way. He felt something sinking in his chest as he walked the empty halls to the opposing locker room. He walked past it. His heart was a lead weight as he passed by places he knew. The old hallway where he and Jeff used to talk. The empty spot where they used to play keep-up before every game with the rest of the team. Where he had sat holding a towel to his teeth after taking a high stick to the mouth from someone, back decades ago.

It felt… empty. There was no laughter. No smiles. He couldn’t hear Drew’s goofy, booming laugh or Tyler’s silly little giggle. There was no bounce of a soccer ball, no frantic call of “I got it!”. He couldn’t hear Anze's call to his wife, the one he made before every game so she could wish him good luck. He felt as though he could feel them there. Quickie, Brownie, Pearsy, Greener, Lewy, Marty, Muzz, Willie, everyone, and yet… they were gone. Even Tyler and Tanner had retired by then.

He slipped inside the locker room for a bit, just to see if it had changed, even though he knew it had. Everything looked the same, the carpet, the stalls, the benches, but the feeling… He looked around seeing new names at the name plates. No A. Kopitar, no T. Lewis, no D. Brown, no J. Quick, and no J. Carter. Whoever M. Christianssen or A. Michaels or S. Odinov was, he didn’t know. And it felt wrong to see them there. He felt alone again.

He’d never felt this way before. Not in his life. He’d never gotten so attached to a group of people. They were his friends. His family. And they were gone. Kopi and Quickie’s numbers were in the rafters, Drew’s, Tyler’s and Brownie’s still pending but likely, as far as he knew. He was afraid of everything he didn’t know.

-

Practice goes okay until Mike looks up at the rafters and noticed an empty space in between Kopitar’s and Quick’s banners.

“Hey, Jake?” he asked. “Who’s… What’s the space for? Is someone’s number being retired?”

Jake, another newbie like himself, looked up. “Yeah. They’re retiring a number at tonight’s game.”

Mike felt the ache grow. “Who’s… whose number’s going up?” he asked.

“Carter’s.” he said simply. “Dude retired years ago and they just decided to retire it.”

Mike all of a sudden felt like he was going to throw up or cry or do something else that wouldn’t be called for. 

Jeff’s number retirement. Jeff’s number was being retired. Tonight.

“I… I have to go.” He rushed off the ice and back to the empty hallway, leaving his teammates to continue on with practice. He felt sick and hid his face in his hands to hide his red, puffy eyes as he cried into his gloves. He felt terrible. He’d known Carts had retired years ago, he’d watched his retirement game on his laptop through an illegal stream at 4:30 in the morning in Berlin. But a number retirement? He honestly considered breaking his own hand so he would be taken out of the lineup indefinitely, tonight. He then considered that Jeff probably wouldn’t recognize him. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t. He knew he was going to cry, but hopefully, he could keep it to himself.

When practice ended, he disappeared again into the halls of the building. It was a comforting place for him, despite everything that had happened to him while he had been there. Not as comforting as it had once been, but still something. Anything familiar worked,at this point.

-

By the time of the game, that night, Michael had bottled-up his feelings and had hidden them well enough to the point where none of his teammates and noticed that anything was wrong. He hoped they didn’t, at least. 

Warm-ups go without fail. He’s played against the Kings before, back on the Flyers… but this still didn’t feel right. He looked out across the ice at the swirl of black and silver jerseys and let himself be, for only a little while.

‘That should be Nolan. Not Lemieux.’ he thought to himself, as a person wearing the number 71 passed by. And he thought the same again about a guy who wore the number 12, only about how it should be Gaborik, not Whittle.

Then the ceremony starts. Mike’s in the starting line-up that night, so he was out on the opposite side of the ice from the Kings, looking up at the Canadian and American flags, but he wasn’t focusing on the anthem or on the flags or even the sheer amount of people. His eyes were focused up at the empty space in the rafters. The one that would be filled with his friend’s name in only a few minutes.

He felt awful, to say the least. He was so focused on getting this game done and over with that he didn’t even know that his number was being retired. But he felt even more awful when he looked up and saw Jeff on the jumbotron. He had aged a bit, but he was still handsome, his golden hair now with faint lines of silver every here-and-there, blue eyes still shining, and his teeth put into their places, filling the gaps of years of thrown punches and high sticks to the mouth. Mike felt his heart sink like a weight, down into his stomach. He saw him with Megan and, God, they had their kids . 

Two girls and a boy. The eldest girl, who looked to be around 22, looked just like Megan. Brown hair, blue eyes, and was actually pretty tall. Something she probably got from Jeff. The youngest, the other girl, was probably 17 with blonde hair and brown eyes. A perfect mix, if anything, of her parents. Then the boy. He looked exactly like Jeff did when he was 19. Golden-blonde hair and bright blue eyes and all, but with Megan’s kind smile. Mike felt his heart clench and his eyes water at the sight of them all, apart from Jeff who was in a suit, in number 77 Carter jerseys, smiling, waving at the cameras. And then they bring out the banner. The black fabric apparent in the bearers’ hands as they hook it up to the ropes and give the signal for it to be lifted, revealing the stark contrast of the black “Carter” and numbers against the white fabric as it was lifted high into the air.  
Mike saw his own vision grow blurry with tears as the banner came to a stop in it’s place above them all in the rafters. 

‘Don’t cry.’ he thought to himself as he blinked back tears as the ceremony came to a close. He found himself lining up for puck drop to the right of his captain, like how he did at practice, and watched as the small cylinder of black vinyl dropped to the frozen ground.

-

The Avalanche lost the game, 4-2. The only goals scored for them were from a veteran player named Kody Lindstrom and Mike. The locker room was quiet apart from a few players who were talking to the media. Mike sat in his stall and quietly dressed out. Of course he lost against the Kings. Of course he couldn’t do it He scored once, but it wasn’t enough to pull through. 

The bad thing was, Mike didn’t want to win. He wanted them to win for Jeff. It was his night, after all.

“Markus? Markus Richardson?” he heard someone call.”Markus, there’s someone here who wants to see you.”

Mike nodded to his fake name. “Yeah, tell them I’ll be out in a minute.” He piped as he stuffed his gear into his bag before standing up and walking out and down the hallway to see…

“Here he is, Mr. Carter.” the assistant said. “I told him you wished to speak with him.”

Jeff nodded. “Thank you Marcy. You can go now.”

The assistant nodded and went on her way, leaving the hallway empty except for the two of them.

“Hello, Markus.” Jeff smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for Mike to shake. “Jeff Carter.”

Mike was nearly shaking out of his skin at this point. “I know who you are. I was a really big fan of yours, growing up. Mom being from Cali and all, it was a Leafs-Kings household.” he smiled, shaking the blond man’s hand. “Markus Richardson. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Jeff kept his smile and kept looking up and down on him. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. Congratulate you on your first NHL goal. It’s a big step. You have some nifty moves, kid.”

Mike flushed a little at that. “Thank you, sir. That’s a really big compliment from you.”

“It’s nothing, really.” he assured. “It reminds me of an old friend of mine.”

Shit.

“Really?” He asked. “That’s really nice of you to say, Mr.Carter. What about my play? Who of?”

“I think you know.” he said softly. “Michael, it’s… It’s good to see you again.”

Mike looked at him oddly, thinking of every profanity imaginable. "U-Um... M-Mister Carter? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

"Mike," He pleaded, "Mike please, I know it's you.”

“Mr. Carter.” Mike said concerned. “Seriously, are you feeling okay? Do you need me to get you someone?”

“Mike!” he said, loud and annoyed. “I know it’s you. Just tell me what happened. Please tell me that it’s you in there!”

Mike bit his lip and let out a sigh. “Alright.” he said defeated. “Alright. You… How did you…?”

Jeff’s gaze softened. “Mike, I… I can’t believe it! What happened to you!? You… You haven’t aged at all! You don’t look any different at all! You look… How did you…-”

“It’s… It’s a long story.” he sighed. “You should go.”

“I have time.” he said. “Megan and I took separate cars. She has the kids. I can talk.”

“Jeff.”

“Mike, please.” the blond pleaded. “I want to know what happened. I’ve… I’ve missed you.”

Mike gave him a look. “You missed me? Really?”

“Of course I did!” He reasoned. “Mike, why wouldn’t I? 

“You know why.” Mike snapped. “Don’t fucking act like that didn’t happen.”

“That what didn’t happen?!” he asked. “Mike, just tell me!”

“You really made me feel like shit, back then, bud.” he grumbled. 

“Mike?”

“Back when the story went out almost 25 years ago.” he clarified. “You did nothing. Look, yeah, that’s what I wanted you to do, but when people you hadn’t played with in over a decade text you and call you to check in on you after a report goes out that you were cut from the team for abuse of a high-strength painkiller and yet your best friend doesn’t even talk about you until the media asks and then he replies that you’re “just some guy.” and basically go with what I told Dean to say, it hurts. It hurts like a fucking bitch. Made me feel like a bigger fucking freak than I already am! Like you would know.”

“Mik-”

“Oh, by the fucking way: The stories? Never. Even. Fucking. Happened.” he grit. “I made it up with Dean to help me get away.”

“Mike!” Jeff almost shouted. “Mike what are you…- what do you mean? You aren’t a freak!”

“You don’t even know!” Mike exclaims. “You have barely scratched the surface! There is so much more that you don’t even know, bud.”

“Then tell me.” He begged. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Wouldn’t believe what?” He says. “That I’m standing in front of my friend who should be 54? Who should look like me and yet is standing right before me looking like the day we got drafted after re-living his NHL debut on my jersey night?”

Mike couldn’t believe this was happening. “I….. I just…”

“Mike, please, tell me what happened. I just want to understand!” Jeff said honestly. “I want to fix what I did.”

Mike sighed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you.”

Jeff nodded.

“I… Jeff, I left because I had to.” he explained. “It was for my own safety.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to.” Mike explained. “It just… It wasn’t safe for me anymore. I… Jeff, I… Did… Did anyone ever tell you the stories when you were a kid?”

“What stories?”

“The ones about… About the player? The one that can live forever?

Jeff looked at him curiously. “Yeah, of course they did. It was one of my favorite stories when I was growing up and playing Timbits. Why?”

Mike didn’t say anything.

“It’s you…. It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked cautiously. “The man from the stories.”

Mike silently nodded. “Yes.” he croaked out.

Jeff furrowed his brows. “So is that why you’re still… you know…”

“Young?” Mike finished. “Yes, that’s why.”

“Holy shit…” Jeff sighed. “That’s… I… wow.”

“Yeah.” Mike said sheepishly. “So, is that all?”

“Oh no you don’t.” Jeff warned. “You’re telling me everything. You’ve told me that, but what about everything else? The drugs, the border, the lead up to this? What about all of that?”

“I made it up!” the brunet confessed. “I made them up. With Dean.”

“So you ruined your reputation? On purpose?!” the taller man blurted. “Why?!”

“I had to go!” Mike repeated. “Jeff, you know I can’t die. Here’s the thing, this means I can’t stick around forever! I had to find a way that would let me escape out of-”

“So that meant going and making everyone think you’re a nervous wreck with an addiction problem?!” Jeff interjected. “Mike don’t you know how dangerous that is?! I was worried sick!”

“Like Hell!” he spat. “You didn’t even try to call! I thought you hated me! Hell, I still think you do!”

“What!?” he exclaimed. “Mike are you being serious right now?!”

Mike sighed, feeling the mood shift. “Why wouldn’t I be? You sounded pissed. You still do.”

“I was pissed off, yeah, that you didn’t tell me!” Jeff enunciated. “Mike, I was worried about your health. I thought we were friends and that you would have told me about it so I could help you. When I found out, I thought you didn’t trust me enough to even try to tell me. That’s what got me mad.”

Mike stared at him. “What?”

“I just thought you didn’t trust me.” he said again. “I got pissed.”

“You didn’t even try to call.” Mike said. “How do you think I felt!? I thought you hated me!”

“Mike…” Jeff breathed. “I… I tried to call you, a couple months later. To apologize. Machine said you didn’t have it anymore, the number...I... I could never hate you.”

Mike stared at him, then realizing what he’d done. 

“Jeff...I… I changed my number… When I moved to Munich.”

“Munich?!” Jeff exclaimed. “You… Why were you in Munich!?”

Mike sighed. “It was one of the only places I thought could be safe. As long as it was far away. No one would recognize me. It’s not easy with social media. I could play hockey in the DEL in a couple years, play there until I decided to hide for a few and come back to Canada and try to get drafted again.”

“And that’s what you did?”

“Yeah.” he confirmed. “That’s basically what I did. Fake name and all.”

“Mike, I…. I’m really sorry.”

“Jeff, no, it’s... it’s okay. Don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I just… There’s just a few things that happened that made my pattern fall out of synch. I…”

“Richie?” he asked. “What happened, exactly?”

“I fell in love.”

Mike can feel Jeff’s gaze on him change. “What?”

“I fell in love.” he repeated. “Look, it’s… I can’t…”

“Mike? Wha-”

“They were a teammate.” he explained. “It… I couldn’t control it. I looked at him one day and I thought ‘wow he’s beautiful’ and I tried so hard to shake it off or something and I just…I just…”

“Mike…”

“I couldn’t do it.” he confessed. “I couldn’t stop loving him, I… I can’t. I still can’t I…”

“Mike, it’s alright.” Jeff reaffirmed. “You can’t control your heart. It isn’t your fault.”

“It’s my fault that I still did after he got married!” he said, cautiously. “I just… It should have stopped, I should know better, but no that only made it worse and I still wanted him and I couldn’t stop and I still love him and I shouldn’t-”

“Mike.”

“What?” he said. “What is it you want to know? I’ve kind of told you everything, now.”

“Richie… I… I’m so sorry.” Jeff said weakly.

“Jeff, you don’t have to apologize. It happened.” he sighed. “I just… I wish I’d been smarter. Learned not to want something I can’t have. Grown up more. Kept my mouth shut. Learned after all these years to not get close. I just…”

“Richie…” Jeff spoke out. “Richie, please, you’re going to give yourself an anxiety attack. Take a couple breaths.”

Mike bit his lip and did as he was told. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before opening his eyes and looking up at Jeff’s face. He muttered something Mike didn’t quite hear.

“What?” he questioned. “Jeff what are you saying?”

“It… It was me… wasn’t it?”

Mike didn’t say a word, only looked away from Jeff, his eyes burning with tears because dammit he knew was going to lose him again.

“Oh my God.” Jeff mumbled.

“I’m sorry.”

“Mike...” Jeff began.

“I should go.”

“Mike wait.” Jeff says. “I’m… I’m sorry-”

“I-, " he chokes out. “I just… I need to-”

“No, Mike.” the taller man said. “Please. Just… listen.”

Mike stayed put where he was, preparing to leave at any given moment, should Jeff try to pull the speech. He hated that speech. He'd seen it in plenty of movies.

"What?" he mumbled. "What is it you have to say? If you're going to give me that shitty speech from every goddamn movie out there about how you feel bad that you don't feel the same way, I don't want to hear it."

"Mike...I'm so sorry." Jeff said, sounding almost as choked up his friend was. "I'm so so sorry, I... I should have... I..."

"Should have what?" the shorter man poked.

"I should have told you."

"Told me what?"

"Mike... I love you."

Mike's heart swelled inside his chest. No. No that wasn't possible. Not possible. No. No. He looked up at Jeff and into his eyes and see the trick. As though he'd burst into a fit of laughter a minute later about how he fooled him. A mean trick.... He couldn't see it.

"You're lying." he muttered, bitterly. "You're lying. That isn't true."

"Mike."

"That can't be true."

"Mike, I wouldn't lie to you."

"No." he shook his head. "No, that's bullshit."

"Richie, I- I'm so sorry... I... I wish I'd known."

"It wouldn't have worked." the shorter man said. "Even if you are. You would have only grown older while I stay looking like this stupid fucking kid. I stopped aging at 23. Look at us, Cartsy. Look at you."

Jeff bit his lip, chapped from years of cold Ontario winds and rinks. "I wouldn't have cared, Mike." he growled. "I still don't."

"You should." he said, feeling twinges of guilt in his words. "You have Megan. You have three kids."

“Mike, Megan’s and my marriage fell apart years ago.” Jeff confessed. “We just don’t love each other like that. She figured I loved someone else. She wasn’t mad, she kinda always knew. We stayed together long enough to have kids, we both wanted them, and we still live in the same house, but we aren’t… It’s not there anymore.”

He was confused. He was so damn confused. 

“But you married her.” he said. “You told me you loved her. I was the best man at your wedding. What was that up in the box, then?”

Jeff held up his hands as if to show Mike he meant no harm. “It was an act.” he confessed. “We’ve been doing it for years. The kids don’t even know. Well, Maddie doesn’t know, at least. She is our youngest. Then there’s our son, Aaron, and our oldest, Abigail.”

“Jeff.”

“Right, sorry.” he apologized. “It’s just a secret. They know because they found the papers on my desk a few years ago. Right before Abbie went off to college. We told them we just didn’t want to hurt anyone with the news. They understood, but were mad for a bit.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why did you do it?”

“We did it because she didn’t want me to be outed.” he revealed. “She loved me even if I didn’t love her back like that, anymore. She wanted me to be safe. I… Mike I realized I made a mistake when I felt my heart beat faster while looking at you walking down the aisle with Lindsay as my best man more than I was to seeing Megan walk down.”

“What?”

“Mike… I realized I was in love with you while I was standing at the altar to get married to someone else.” he said. “That maybe everything I felt was something I shouldn’t be feeling for my best friend. I got so fucked up over it.”

“Jeff…” Mike choked out. “I… You told me though.”

“What?”

“You’ve told me. You said you loved me before.” Mike remembered. “I just… You were drunk, it was after our first cup, I… I just told myself it wasn’t real.”

The hallway went silent for a few moments after that. One could hear a pin drop from meters away.

Jeff looked away from the shorter man and heaved a sigh. “I guess drunk me knew before sober me.” he mumbled. “Look, I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk to me because I was a dick and I’m not exactly in your dating range anymore. But please just… Know that I loved you. I still do. Fuck, I’m sorry, I just want you to not be miserable anymore thinking that you’re the one that fucked up. Fuck. I just want to let you know. I’m so sorry.”

“Jeff.” Mike said, voice filled with empathy. “Jeff, you don’t have to apologize. And you don’t have to stop talking to me either.” The tension that had peaked in the hallway earlier had died off at this point. He looked up from his feet and to his friend before him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Mike murmured. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Yeah, but I mean it. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be.” Jeff looked around and huffed a sigh. “Can I…”

Mike nodded. “Yes.” He leaned in and wrapped his arms around the blonde man’s middle, feeling himself sink into his solid form. Jeff reciprocated immediately, wrapping his arms around Mike’s body and holding onto him tightly.

“‘m sorry.” he heard Jeff mumble into his hair. “‘m so sorry.”

"It's okay." Mike mumbled. "It's okay. I'm sorry, too."

"Y' shouldn't be." 

"It's my fault I ran."

"Yeah, but you had a reason to."

Mike sighed and nuzzled into his chest and held on for a few more minutes before pulling away. "What do we do now?"

"What?"

"What can we do about this?" Mike said motioning between the two men.

Jeff looked down at his hands and then back to Mike. “I…”

“Jeff we can’t…” the shorter man trailed. “It’d be too complicated and pretty much illegal. I’m 18 to them, yeah, and you’re actually 54, but one: people still think you’re married, two: people don’t think that you and I like the same sex, and three, the elephant in the room: I can’t die. You can. I don’t want you to… I don’t want to see you… I just-”

“You don’t want to see me?”

“No!” Mike exclaimed. “I mean it’s complicated. I want to see you, but I can’t. You know? I just don’t want you to go through more pain. If I was in a relationship, I wouldn’t want to hide it. Does that make sense?”

The blonde looked sympathetically at his friend. 

“Yeah. I get it, I guess.” he said. “It’d be hard to explain. And I wouldn’t want to hide either.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Jeff shook his head. “Why would I?” His soft smile then faded. 

“Besides. It would be hard for us. Like how you said.”

Mike opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of his teammates from down the hall, calling for him to hurry up so he could go back with them to the hotel and rest up for tomorrow’s game against Anaheim.

Jeff’s features softened. “I guess you have to go.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah.” He turned to look up at his friend. “So I guess this is goodbye.”

Jeff nodded his head. “Tell me again when you’ll be in the city. I want to see you again.”

Mike promised he would.

-

Mike spent the next few decades running from place to place. After his time with the Avs, and later on, the Rangers, he went over to Russia and played for Nizhny Novgorod for a few years before signing with Moscow. Then Riga.

He kept his promise to Jeff, by the way. He’d never been one to make promises he can’t keep. He tells him about Russia. How it’s so different from North America. How the KHL is almost as if someone is putting a gun to his head and shouting “SKATE OR I SHOOT” constantly. It’s different and not always in a good way.

A couple decades down the road… He gets the notifications. 

Gaborik’s first. He’s 84. Heart attack, media said. The first of his Kings teammates to die. Then… it’s Danny. Danny’s 90. He sees the pictures from the ceremony online and he can’t help but cry when he sees Caelan, Cameron, Carson, and their sister Catherine’s faces, dressed in black. Claude was there too. An old man, face deteriorated with time and his once bright ginger curls turned white and thin.

One by one, he received notifications of old teammates and their passings. And it broke his heart. Seeing people who he once knew and thought of as family leave. It was like watching a ship sink and viewing from another ship in the harbor, wanting to, but not being able to do anything about it.

Jeff Carter passes away on a cold winters’ evening. Age 87 on December 31st, 2072. The day before he was to turn 88.

Mike can’t stop crying.

-

The year Mike returns to the NHL is 2091 and the NHL Draft was in Las Vegas. Mike was going by his real name again. He figured there’s been a lot of people named Mike Richards in the NHL that no one would even bother looking it up. He wasn’t wrong.

Vegas was oddly nice. He got to walk around with some of the other picks including a girl who turned out to be Luc Robitaille’s great-great granddaughter which might explain the way she played and why she was so good. There was a reason she was a hype. 

She ended up going first overall to the Canadiens. Mike feels that Luc would have been proud. He probably would have been if he were here to see it.

The first round of the draft is close to over when his name gets called. He’s gone out of Barrie, 24th overall by… 

Los Angeles.

He was drafted by Los Angeles.

He walks up, takes the jersey and the hat from their General Manager and took the pictures with him and walked behind the stage and to the media area of the building. He wondered if he’d have to meet with their 11th overall pick. He hadn’t even seen them get called. He was in the bathroom when it did, knowing he wouldn’t be going until later. He didn’t know who got chosen.

Media was easy. He’s been through it hundreds upon hundreds of times before, putting on the act of a shy, happy young man, as though he were new and not used to NHL-style media. 

He went back to Barrie for a few days after the draft to pack up his things and to say goodbye to the guys who he’d known for the past 2 years before leaving to LA and what was now his future.

He was nervous as hell.

-

Los Angeles hadn’t changed much since he’s last visited. It had been years, but still, everything made it seem as though time stopped once you entered the city. 

The Capitol Record spiral building was still there. As were the Knickerbocker, the Roosevelt, and the Pantages theater, all standing within the shadow of those same familiar white letters on the hills. 

It was a warm July morning when he arrived. Just like the rest of the city, LAX hadn’t changed much except for more technology and more gates for more flights, but,other than that, it seemed to be the same. He met a woman at the baggage claim who held a sign with his name on it, smiling brightly with a bluetooth headpiece. Her name was Liz and she led him and his stuff out to a taxi and helped it into the trunk. 

She got into the taxi and sat next to him, telling the driver where to go so they could drop off his things at the hotel before heading over to the practice facility. It reminded him exactly of when he first arrived in Los Angeles back almost 80 years before only he didn’t have Arnold with him to help lessen his anxiety. 

She said his roommate, their earlier pick, for the camp had already showed up last night and that he was probably leaving for the rink any minute. 

“It’s part of his routine.” she noted. “It makes him more comfortable when he’s somewhere new, I guess. Getting some extra skating in.”

Mike just shrugged and stared out the window at the city. Everyone had their superstitions, he figured, Ways of becoming more comfortable with a new place. It was something he knew all too well after years of personal experience. 

There were a few more buildings on the skyline, but nothing too strange or out of place. He missed the city, if he was being honest. He hadn’t thought to come back since he’d left the NHL back decades ago. He wanted to, but was always too afraid to actually do it. He went to Canada and to Florida and New York and stuff, but was always too scared to go back to Philly or LA.

After Mike dropped his stuff off, he grabbed his sticks and his gear bag and went back out to the taxi and to Liz and put his stuff in the back before getting back in as the taxi made its way to the practice facility. 

To be honest, it was kind of a miracle that TSC had remained their practice facility for this long. That they had not moved to another building closer to the city and not by the airport. Guess he was wrong on that one. It was a nice facility, though. He really can’t blame people for still liking it.

There were a couple of the kids on ice already, by the time he got there. He walked to the locker room and over to an empty stall and started dressing out into his hockey gear amongst the other rookies and draft picks in their group. He sighed and sat down to tie his skates as one of the other kids came and sat down next to him, partially dressed already with a roll of tape in hand. At least, that’s all Mike could see while bent in half.

“Way to go, Carter. Already forgot your tape, eh?” one of the rookies chirped. Mike froze when he heard the voice in reply.

“Laugh all you want, Wilsy. I was in a rush this morning so I couldn’t grab the full one, no thanks to you. Sorry your best friend got a roomie for this one and you’re stuck with me. Just like World Juniors.”

Mike felt his blood run cold. That voice…

“Not my fault, bud. I didn’t even see my roommate yet. Left before he showed up, this morning. I’m stuck with the Richards kid.”

“By stuck with you mean blessed.” Mike says, popping his head up. “I’m the guy in question, so I figured I’d introduce myself.”

The kid blanched like a sheet of paper. “Sorry there. I’m Josh Wilson. I guess I’m your roomie.”

“Nice to meet you, Josh. You seem like quite the guy. Hope we become friends.” Mike smiled as Josh flushed and turned back to his friend. Mike heard a laugh beside him. 

“Nice one there.” the chilling voice next to him said. “That was a pretty good one.”

Mike turned his head to look at the person and…

He froze as he met a pair of kind ocean blue eyes.

“Hi there!” the person said in a thick Ontario accent, grinning a sun-bright smile. “It’s good to meet you.”

"You too." he said. he said, backing away a bit to get a good look at the kid and felt his blood turn to ice once his eyes laid upon golden blonde hair, fair skin, and a full smile of white teeth. 

The boy.

“I'm Jeff.” he grinned, sticking out his hand for Mike to shake. “Jeff Carter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mike couldn’t believe what was happening as he took his hand and smiled up at him.

“I’m Mike.” he grinned. “Mike Richards. It's a pleasure to meet you, too.”


End file.
